Gravitation
by account-is-terminated1221
Summary: Mello has never cared about what anyone says; especially when it concerns his sexuality. Matt, on the other hand, is a complete closet-case who's too antisocial to care. Can Mello help Matt be himself, & can Matt help Mello tone down just a bit?   Yaoi


**Author's Note: Hello there, reader! This may or may not be good, but let me know what you think anyway! :D Lol**

**On to the story~!**

**Chapter 1. Moving**

**Mello's P.O.V:**

I fell into bed dramatically, utterly exhausted. Classes were kicking the shit out of me, and I felt like my schedule lately was school, sleep, work, sleep, and repeat. I hardly had any time to myself. The classes weren't _that_ hard, but they were demanding and time consuming. Maybe next time I'd reconsider taking seven classes a week while also trying to keep up with my part-time job. And as if things could get any worse, I was barely getting by with my bills, meaning my fridge was usually empty aside from ramen noodles and chocolate, and I was always a hairs-width away from being evicted.

Fun stuff.

I wouldn't be in this demanding situation had I not practically run away from home as soon as I'd turned 18 last year; but I couldn't stand another minute with my homophobic stepfather. You'd think he'd try to have some _tolerance_ seeing as he was supposed to be winning me over and getting my approval that he was even worthy to be dating my mother. Not that I was one of those needy sons that got into my mother's personal life, but I didn't want her dating a total douche bag. But anyways, the guy looked at me like I was one of those dirty, diseased, stray cats. Was I really that revolting? I always thought I was pretty hot. Yeah, screw modesty. I was a ten as far I was concerned. And if anyone had a problem with that, well they could say hello to my beautiful gun collection.

Going back to my homophobic stepfather, I was never _that_ openly gay around him. Well, I was polite enough to be quiet when I brought a boy home, at least… Alright, alright, I admit that I was pretty flamboyant. Not girly, just my usual self; which called for dressing in skin tight leather, indulging in chocolate all day, and fully embracing myself and whatever it was I felt like saying or doing. I wasn't going to be a closet-case for anyone, but I don't see why I should anyway. Since when is it even necessary to have a tolerance for me? For _gays_? We aren't vermin.

However, even with my disregard for his innocent (pshht, my ass) straight eyes, it seemed that Mr. Homophobe was dealing with it all pretty well. Yeah, pretty well, that is until his guy friends found out about his girlfriend's, and I quote, '_Flaming_ gay son'. I didn't give two shits, and neither did my mother. She had always been accepting. She had never been all happy about it, but she'd told me that she respected my preference and didn't love me any less for it. That was always comforting.

So you're probably wondering what the asshole did, right? Well, he was stupid enough to _threaten_ me, to tell me that I had to lose all my leather, to cut my hair more masculine, to be anything but myself.

Did I mention I have a gun collection?

But instead of reacting violently, like I was really tempted to, I'd done something that I knew would piss the _hell _out of him. Let's just say that most of his friends weren't as straight as he'd thought they were.

There was a lot of noise outside for some reason, and even though I was dead tired, I couldn't seem to get to sleep with the sound of cars backing up, honking, and making all sorts of unnecessary noises. Sure it was the middle of the day, but I was freaking tired. I'd taken two shifts back to back, and I was running on fumes at the moment. I turned over, trying to drown everything out and fall asleep. After about a half an hour of listening to the shit consistently, I gave up. I groaned in annoyance, covering my ears melodramatically. The damn noises wouldn't stop!

I rolled out of bed, body aching in protest and my mind partially numb, to pull back the curtains to the window on the side of the house. From what I could see, there were moving trucks pulling into the driveway to the house next door. Apparently, someone had bought or rented the place. It had been empty for years, or so I'd been told by the real estate agent when I'd been looking for a place; I hadn't had enough money to stay there though, so this house had been fine. I was only one person, and the other house would have been too big for me anyway. At least that's what I told myself.

I vaguely wondered what my new neighbors would be like. I'd never had neighbors. Well I did, but old people didn't really count since they didn't make a sound. Sometimes I'd seriously wonder if they'd died or something, but then I'd see their car pull out and my suspicions would be gone again. That's another thing, old people shouldn't be driving.

At all.

I'd die of humiliation and embarrassment if I was killed in a car crash involving someone over 60. If I was going to die in a car accident at all, I want it to be dramatic. Like explosion and all. The works. But dying because some old person couldn't see the light turn red? That'd be way too lame for me to handle…

Okay, I digress. Back to the random movers. I wonder who'll have the room with the window right across from me. I hoped it wasn't a couple. I didn't need to hear _things_ from next door. Continuing further into that thought, the song 'Neighbors Know My Name' immediately came into mind. I made a sound of disgust; I hated that damn song. I shrugged my worries away though. I'd find out soon enough, and if it was a couple then maybe I'd be able threaten them into switch rooms. Being badass has its advantages, you know.

I walked over to my coffee table, picking up an unopened chocolate bar and claiming it as mine with a bite. I returned to look from the window.

**Matt's P.O.V:**

I sighed heavily to myself as I helped move boxes. I'd held my box of video games on my lap the entire ride here. Like hell I was going to put it with all the furniture to be crushed, out in the open for any one of these people to steal. Seriously, if anyone touched them they might lose a finger.

I'm not even kidding.

As I walked to the door, one of the guys helping us bring our stuff in nearly tripped, almost dropping the box labeled 'Matt's Game Consoles'.

"Hey, watch it! That box contains my lifeline!" I stressed. The man rolled his eyes with a nod, and I could've sworn I'd heard him mutter 'Nerd'.

Whatever. I was happy being a nerd. No one questioned my really high intellect, and it gave me a good excuse for why I didn't bring home girls or anything for my parents. To them, I looked like their poor, intelligent, technology obsessed nerd of a son who either wasn't interested in girls yet or couldn't get a date. Well, one part of that statement was kind of true. I didn't like girls. They were…icky. Yeah, I just said icky. But I seriously didn't like them. At least not like _that_. I wasn't attracted to anything they had. And the fact that most of them were totally obsessed with their appearance was even more annoying. So my parents have no idea that I'm gay. Or at least I don't think they do.

I don't mind being a closet case really. I mean, it's not very hard. I'm not flamboyant; I dress strictly like a guy. Not because I'm trying to please anyone, it just isn't my style to dress by any means feminine. And another thing, I don't go out much anyway, so it's not like I'm passing up cute guys to keep my sexuality a secret. To be honest, I'm pretty antisocial. I think my standards are too high too. I live by one…_rule_, I guess you could call it. I would 'come out' if I found a guy who could seriously wow me. Put it this way, if he could make me look away while I was playing Zelda, on the last level, trying to kill Ganondorf to beat the whole game, then he'd be worth my undivided attention.

Alas, there has been no such guy.

Did I mention that I hadn't wanted to move here in the first place? I was perfectly comfortable in our apartment in New York. Even though I hardly went out, it felt good to _know _that people were around outside, living life, even while I wasn't.

…Sad, isn't it?

Don't judge me.

I went back out to the truck for another thing (aside from all my electronics) that meant the world to me. My shiny, black Gibson-brand electric guitar. This was my baby. Well, actually, it was _one _of my babies. The other was my beautiful, red, smokin' hot car. This was probably one of the things that made my sexuality lean more towards homo than straight to people. I could, to be honest, get hot chicks with this car. _Really _hot chicks. I knew because I'd tested my car's power once, and immediately gotten a couple numbers. Not that I wanted any from _them_, but still, my ego had appreciated it. So seeing as I had this wonderful car to help me, yet I didn't use it the way most –okay, _all_- straight guys would, that probably made me look more than a little uninterested in girls.

That only added to some of the signs I'd let slip when I was younger. They hadn't been signs to me, but now, when I think back at them, they were pretty gay. For example, I'd come home one time in elementary school, asking my parents if I could get an earring like this girl in my class, Linda. When they'd asked why, I'd replied "I think it'll look nice on me." This is a rather small sign since a lot of guys have earrings these days, but I still think it's fruity…Anyways, they hadn't said anything. Just nodded and said they'd think about it. They never responded to it, so I never brought it up again. Another instance was when I was in middle school; I'd been hanging out with a boy named Mark for a while. He was into the games that I was into at that time, so we had hit it off pretty well. My mother had turned to me as he left, saying "You and Mark seem to have a lot of fun together. It's nice that you finally found someone to play with." I'd answered "Yeah. He has really pretty eyes, you know." By age 13, I could understand from their reactions that that must have been a strange thing to say. They'd merely nodded, sending each other weary looks as they left me to myself.

I'd never said anything else about Mark.

**Author's Note: Should I continue this? I have some ideas, but I'm not sure if this is any good, since I've never really written anything like this…I usually write more serious, darker stories that don't have comedy in them. Not that I don't like light, comedic stories too. I just thought I couldn't write that way. So this is my attempt at _trying _to write something remotely funny and less serious in a way. Hope it worked out. ^^'**

**Review please :)**


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